


You, Me, and the Ballroom Floor

by TenTomatoes



Series: Dancing with the Stars [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Career Ending Injuries, Everyone is a Ballroom Dancer, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, One of those loves is more complicated than the other, Slow Burn, The boys love dancing and each other, Vanessa and Hermann are wlw and mlm solidarity, dancing with the stars au, this is the backstory to the dwts au I haven't written yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenTomatoes/pseuds/TenTomatoes
Summary: Newt Geiszler and Hermann Gottlieb are two beloved bickering judges on the hit ballroom dancing competition show Dancing with the Stars. But few know their story starts long before the cameras turned their way. A three way love story between Hermann, Newt, and ballroom dancing featuring: the opera, mathematics, too many youtube videos, hand written letters, the inability to communicate right, decisions, and eventually a TV show that makes all that too hard to ignore.





	You, Me, and the Ballroom Floor

**Author's Note:**

> lol guys I don't know anything about ballroom dancing. Also there's some videos embedded in the story.

Newt saw his first ballroom dancing from backstage. He was 6 and hiding from the grumpy old man with dumb sweaters and a cane that Mutti always tried to leave him with. Newt had taken to calling him Opa and making his life as difficult as he possibly could, which included at times hiding from him and watching as he ran around in a panic. Newt was buried in a pile of costumes that were nothing but red tulle and pink satin and he had a perfect, if not skewed, view of the stage where Mutti was center stage, lit up with yellow and red. Newt had decided the first time he saw her perform that he’d be center stage one day just like her, he was sure his singing voice would improve. If not, he’d just find a different way to be a rockstar.

Newt hadn’t seen this part of the show, he thought. He couldn’t understand much of what Mutti was singing. It was Italian, and he only had started to learn Italian at the beginning of the summer when Mutti said she was taking him with her on the road all around Europe. But she was in a costume he hadn’t seen before. It was pretty and golden and when Mutti sang she seemed like a princess, like Sleeping Beauty. Newt was so focused on his Mutti he almost didn’t notice the 4 couples gently drifting onto the stage. He did notice though, and it changed his life.

Slowly the couples began to dance and even his beautiful Mutti couldn’t compare to the sight Newt was faced with. He forgot he was supposed to be hiding and he pushed past the tulle and silk, stumbling closer to the stage as though he was in a trance. They moved across the floor like the kaleidoscope he had found in the prop room, weaving between other dancing pairs and switching partners. When the women leaped into their partners’ arms Newt gasped. When the men lifted their partners high up above their heads Newt gapped. It was like nothing he had ever seen.

Newt didn’t realize he was inches from being on stage until there was a hand grabbing the back of his shirt and he was wrenched away from the curtains.

“Here you are, you little devil.”

Newt couldn’t even be mad that the old man had found him he was still so star struck.

“Opa! What is that they’re doing?” Newt yell whispered, gripping Opa’s arm with one hand and pointing to the stage with his other.

Opa scowled before he saw the dancers and his face cleared, looking fond and wistful.

“That is the Viennese Waltz. Beautiful style, one of my favorites.”

They stood and watched the dancers until they ran off stage and Newt’s Mutti started to sing again.

“I want to do that,” Newt said determinedly.

“Do you, now?”

“Yes. How do I learn to do that?”

Opa smiled and that’s how Newt got his first dancing lesson in the back of a changing room, dodging beads and feathers and slaps from a cane when he stopped thinking about his posture. Sometimes the other performers would be his partner for a few minutes, letting him twirl around them, giggling and ask them to leap into his arms the way he saw the dancers do, promising to lift them up over his head. Opa told him about the foxtrot and the tango and the jive, all of which seemed like more fun than the stuffy waltz, and Newt dreamt of dancing center stage, the spotlight on him as he lifted his partner as though she’s as light as a feather, both of them glittering like jewels.

By the time Mutti got tired of having him around and dumped him back off in America with his dad and uncle, Newt had already decided and there was nothing anyone could do to change his mind.

He was going to be a ballroom dancer.

 

++++

 

Hermann loved maths. He adored the logic and order that came from it, the beauty in its simplicity and practicality. His classes, when not catering to the slow minded nitwits who managed to con their way in, were exhilarating and Hermann absorbed the knowledge at a rate that left his professors in awe and using words like unrivaled and genius. His work and research left him not just content but humming, theories whirling in his minds, numbers spelling out wonderous mysteries. Maths, Hermann was sure, was the purest form of understanding the world, and dedicating his life to further said understanding was not just a worthy dedication but a logical one.

All of this was absolutely true, Hermann would swear on his life, yet when he closed his eyes and thought of the future, it was not the ivory towers of academia he saw, but the open ballroom floor. His mother thought it a glorified hobby and his father a waste of time, but to Hermann, ballroom dancing was a passion, as much as numbers were. To Hermann, maths and dancing were not all that different. Both were challenging, they relied on order and sequences, just as beautiful at their most simple as at their most complex, both a form of art. The trial of choosing a passion to follow was not a new one. It had hung over his head the moment he ended his first dance lesson and he realized he could only have one and someday he would have to choose. He knew his father thought the issue was laid to rest, with Hermann accepting to go to college for his degree, but Hermann had always known this was not a decision but a stalling tactic.

Unfortunately, he could stall no longer.

“You seem far away Hermann. Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

Hermann startled from where he was sitting, staring at his hands, and looked up. Vanessa was in the middle of the dance floor stretching her legs, she lifted an eyebrow and had a look that said she wouldn’t take no for an answer. They had a competition in a week, the day before graduation, and they were meant to be practicing their routine.

Hermann had met Vanessa three years ago when he first came to Cambridge. Before he even applied, he had checked the surrounding area for a dance studio to ensure he wouldn’t have to give up dancing. The studio was small but professional, with good reviews but nothing quite frankly remarkable about it. Hermann would have preferred a place with a little more reputation, but what he found there was worth more than reputation. There he had found Vanessa.

Vanessa was a second-year economics major when they met, with a background in gymnastics and a passion for ballroom dancing that she didn’t know how she came to possess. The first time he had danced with Vanessa, it had been beautiful enough that someone watching wept but when they finished Vanessa had frowned and told him they needed to work on their hold. Hermann knew at once he never wanted to have a different partner because he had been thinking the same exact thing. Vanessa pushed him in a way that he had never been pushed before. For the first time, there was someone with higher expectations than he. Every time they would succeed at something incredible, Vanessa would find something even more challenging for them to accomplish. Dancing with Vanessa was everything that made Hermann fall in love with dancing to begin with: athletic, precise, challenging, passionate, joyful. Together they won almost every competition they entered, in both ballroom and Latin. And more than that, though it was horrifically sentimental, he had found the closest friend he had ever had. Hermann would be lying if Vanessa wasn’t part of what was making the decision even harder.

“We are graduating soon,” Hermann said, cringing when he realized he was simply stating the obvious like a fool.

“Are you still not sure about what to do?” Vanessa asked as she switched legs she was stretching.

“And you are?”

“Economics is fine and all, but you know I was only ever in college to make my parents happy. Dancing is where my future lies,” Vanessa said, firm as she always was.

“Ah, if only I could be as certain as you,” Hermann grumbled.

Vanessa was silent as she stretched for another 8 count.

“You want to know what I think?” Vanessa finally asked.

“Please,” he said, with enough sarcasm to hide he truly wanted her help.

She got up from the floor and sat next to Hermann, looking at him critically.

“I think you have two options here. Either you stay in academia and solve one of those unsolvable maths problems and win a Fields Medal. Or you choose to become a professional dancer and we go on to be champions and become ballroom royalty. Either way, there’s no bad option. You’ll be at the top of whatever you choose to do. I don’t think you’re having a problem choosing. I think in your heart you’ve already chosen, but for whatever reason, you think it’s the wrong choice.” Vanessa placed her hand on Hermann’s and smiled. “I don’t know which one you’ve chosen, but I want to assure you it’s not the wrong one.”

“There must be one option that is better than the other,” Hermann sighed.

Vanessa scowled at him.

“Thanks for listening to my whole speech arsehole.”

“I apologize. It was lovely. I shall follow my heart as you say.”

“That wasn’t what I was saying!” She pushed him and huffed. “Look let me put it in numbers so your ridiculous mind can understand it. You have two options. One is 4 + 4. The other is 2^2. What do both equal, Sir Math Genius?”

Hermann didn’t respond until Vanessa pushed him again.

“8.”

“8. 8 is your success if you were wondering.”

Vanessa gave him a fierce look until he sighed and smiled softly.

“Thank you, Vanessa.”

“Now, if you’re done with all that, shall we start with the quickstep?”

They settled into their routine, moving as synchronized as they always did, and Hermann lost himself in the flow of dancing. Somewhere in between Vanessa yelling at him for dropping her and almost breaking his wrist when he tripped over Vanessa’s ridiculous skirt she was adamant she was going to wear, Hermann realized the weight he had been carrying was gone.

Vanessa was right of course. He had made his decision long ago and there was nothing anyone, not his father nor even Vanessa, could do to change it.

 

++++

 

It only took 3 videos for Newt to fall in love with Hermann Gottlieb.

It was all because he couldn’t get this lift right. It hadn’t seemed like it would be a difficult lift, Newt was the master of lifts, but they had been working on it for a week and all Newt had to show for it was several chances for watching his life flash before his eyes and some nasty bruises. The choreographer he was working with was being no help, only giving the same two pieces of advice over and over, and yeah he got it, put his hand there, he was doing that thanks.

It was late at night and Newt should have been sleeping because he had rehearsal in the morning and his body was aching, but every time he closed his eyes it was just that lift, over and over again. It was mocking him. So finally, he had groaned, pulled his laptop into his lap, and opened google. Hopefully, there would be a YouTube tutorial or something, or maybe a forum of other people also unable to get this damn lift and he could get some sweet validation. However, the first link was not a tutorial or a forum, but a video called “Hermann Gottlieb and Vanessa Barres Fusion <3 <3 <3 <3”. Newt rolled his eyes at the hearts but shrugged to himself and clicked the link.

Hermann Gottlieb was tall, oddly lanky, with what seemed like the longest god damned limbs Newt had ever seen. Vanessa, on the other hand, was stocky, with wide hips and broad shoulders, and just barely came up to Hermann's shoulders. They were probably considered a bad pairing, but only Newt wondered what they would do. You didn’t get four hearts by your name by being bad.

Some man introduced them in German, which of course made Newt perk up a little, and the music started.

It was.

It was incredible.

Newt watched as they danced together flawlessly. And by flawlessly, Newt meant flawlessly. Not an over exaggeration, or hyperbole, and sure as hell not those poor imitations of flawlessness that people always pretended they achieved. Every move they made was intentional and perfect and somehow it still looked natural. Newt had never tried to be perfect, it left dances soulless and the dancers looking like little tin robots following through just another program.

But this dancing. No, Hermann, was something else. And look Vanessa was amazing too, Newt wouldn’t deny that, but even she was on a different level than Hermann.

Watching Hermann dance, Newt was sure Hermann hadn’t strived for perfection a day in his life, because striving implied he would never reach it. He was perfection, but he was perfection still filled with life. Crisp but fluid. Gentle but firm. A contradicting dichotomy that left Newt breathless. Watching Hermann, Newt felt the same awe he did all those years ago backstage.

And that was even before he watched Hermann seemingly effortlessly do the lift that Newt had been failing for the last week.

The shout Newt let out at the sight of that lift probably got him a noise complaint because holy shit was that awesome! Newt almost didn’t finish the video because he wanted to go back and just rewatch that lift a few hundred times. But he they kept moving and Newt was unable to do anything but watch them Hermann glide across the stage. He finished the video, which was perfect to the very end, and then proceeded to rewatch the entire video a hundred times. It was just as amazing the first time, even when he strived to find a mistake he found nothing.

After watching it enough times he could probably do the choreography himself, Newt finally realized this was not the only video on the internet of Hermann Gottlieb and almost screamed in glee.

The second video Newt watched was an Argentine tango and Newt’s awe of Herman turned a little hotter as he watched what might have been the sexiest dance he’d ever seen. Newt’s mouth went dry at how Hermann’s face turned dark, his eyes burning as he’d drew his gaze up his partner’s body. How his hands were firm and demanding on her back as he pulled her into his arms. How they slid up her, slow and sensual. How he led their dance, bodies pressed agonizingly close, but with that last tantalizing inch of space. When the dance ended Newt was left with his pulse hammering and way too turned on for just an Argentine tango. He quickly clicked the next video before he did something he’d feel guilty about in the morning, but the sight of Hermann ghosting his lips over the neck of his partner was burned into his mind.

The next video wasn’t a dance, to Newt's surprise. It was an interview from what looked like a few years ago. Hermann was lounging elegantly in a chair, wearing an ugly sweater vest and a slight frown.

“I’m here with Hermann Gottlieb, who is the two-time WDC European champion. Mr. Gottlieb, thank you for joining me.”

“Thank you, it is a pleasure to be here,” Hermann said in a lilting but smooth British accent. He still wasn’t smiling, but Newt was beginning to think not frowning was practically the same thing for him.

“Mr. Gottlieb, would you like to tell us a little about how you got into ballroom dancing?”

Hermann cocked his head for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts before he nodded.

“I started ballroom dancing lessons when I was 7 because that was the sort of thing you did when your parents were upper-crust socialites. I was in several other lessons as well, such as violin and Mandarin, as were all of my siblings. I believe my mother was having one of those passive-aggressive competitions with one of her friends on who had the most cultured children. And Mother did not like losing. Of course, my parents didn’t expect that the lessons they forced us into would turn into my passion and later career. I’m not sure I would have been allowed lessons if they knew.”

“So, your parents weren’t pleased when you decided to become a ballroom dancer.”

“Mother was sure it was a passing fancy and my father was certain I was destined to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor in mathematics. I’m sure they are still waiting for me to give this up.”

“You did actually go to college though, didn’t you?”

“I did. I have a degree in Mathematics from Cambridge. And I do love the subject. It was not torturous for me to get that degree. I believe it is possible to have more than one passion in life and maths and dancing are both my passions.”

Newt thought to the books on zoology and ecology crowding his shelves and the guitar resting against his bed and agreed.

“So, what made you choose dancing over maths?”

“Dancing is the perfect blend of athleticism and art. It requires grace and power, passion but control. There’s a duality of dancing that forces two concepts to not only coexist but to enhance each other, which is mirrored in the relationship between you and your partner. You build a relationship of complete trust and the two of you must become one, learning to lead and follow in turn to make each other better. Each dance is a challenge you and your partner must overcome together. Dancing is making art from a simple combination of movements in complete synchrony another person.”

Hermann paused for a moment and then he smiled, small but bright and wonderous, and Newt felt all the air escape from his lungs.

“And I truly think that is one of the most beautiful things in the universe.”

The video ended but Newt was too stunned to click the next one. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, fast like a quickstep, hard like the paso doble. Newt rewinded and paused the video on Hermann’s smiling face.

“Shit,” Newt said out loud to his empty room.

He was in love.

 

++++

 

Hermann was not laying on the ground in a sweating, panting heap, unlike some uncultured dance partners, because he had dignity. Hermann was sitting propped up against the mirror, not gasping for breath no matter what Vanessa said, calmly checking his phone. There was a reminder for the practice they were currently in the middle of that Hermann deleted and a text from Bastien.

Bastien Gottlieb

Hey hook me up with this guy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6UCwDIK0Nk

Hermann scowled at the phone and put it back in his bag. Bastien was ridiculous, it was probably a random dancer who shook their hips provocatively enough that Bastien actually paid attention for once. He’d sent him the same text several times, once for both the Kaidanovskys at different times. He scoffed once more before turning his attention back to Vanessa, who was still in the middle of the floor.

“Is that it for the day then?” Hermann asked, trying to hide the way he had no air left for words.

“Don’t think you’re getting off easy,” Vanessa said between pants. “We need to run it at least twice more.”

“That does require you getting off the ground, you are aware?”

“Give me a minute.”

Hermann rolled his eyes and sighed. With nothing to do but regain his own breath, he pulled his phone and clicked the link Bastien sent him. He didn’t even read the name just turned it full screen and waited for it to load. When he saw the man standing with his partner, Hermann could see why Bastien was interested. He was short with messy brown hair and what looked like a splattering of stubble across his chin. However, what must have really captured Bastien’s attention was the colorful tattoos that were revealed on his arm by his rolled-up button up. Bastien and his tastes rarely coaligned but this time Hermann couldn’t help but admit Bastien might not have been unreasonable. Of course, looks meant nothing in comparison to dancing and Hermann wouldn’t be surprised if he was about to watch some of the most amateur dancing he’d ever seen.

The announcer introduced the man as Newton Geiszler and the music started and Newton whipped his partner into a Charleston.

When the video ended Hermann was left staring at the black screen speechless. If he had any breath in his lung to begin with he was sure it would have been stolen. Without thinking, he tapped the screen and replayed to video.

Newton Geiszler’s dancing was something Hermann had never seen before. Hermann wasn’t even sure it was dancing. It was the physical manifestation of passion and joy. It was but one dance, but Hermann was sure he had seen the very essence of Newton Geiszler pour out in his dancing to the point he knew that man. Newton Geiszler threw himself into his dancing with every inch of gusto he possessed, and it should have been sloppy and messy and Hermann was shocked to see on his fifth and sixth watch, that it was. He could see the misplaced steps and the perhaps awkward arm, and yet. And yet Hermann was shocked to find it didn’t matter. Every single mistake that would have had Hermann downing in shame only seemed to make the dance what it was, as though they weren’t mistakes at all. It was larger than life and Hermann was sure the man himself was just as large. Hermann couldn’t draw his eyes from him.

“Hermann. Hermann?”

Hermann blinked up to see Vanessa staring at him with an odd look on her face.

“Are you ok? You’re just staring at your phone. What are you watching?”

“No-nothing.” Hermann was ashamed to hear himself stutter, mind still in a scramble. He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes and quick as a whip stole his phone from his hands.

“Vanessa!”

By the time he reached for her, Vanessa was dashing away and Hermann could hear the music start as she watched the video.

“Vanessa give me my phone back this instant,” Hermann called.

He did not chase after her, because that would be childish. Besides, it was not like he was doing anything wrong. It was just a video. When the video ended, Vanessa grinned at him, wide and mischievous.

“Oh, Hermann you big gay disaster.”

Hermann huffed.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You were staring at your phone as though all of your dreams had just come true and they were in the shape of a man.”

“He is just a very talented dancer. I was impressed with his technique.”

“Hermann,” Vanessa tutted. “I have seen you impressed by technique and you have never looked at me like that. I’m almost hurt.”

Hermann scowled.

“Can we please just continue practice. It’s not as though I’m going to go home and watch every video there is of this man that is available on the internet.”

When Hermann went home that day, he did not watch every video of Newton Geiszler that was available on the internet. He made himself dinner first and then only watched most of the videos of Newton Geiszler that were available on the internet. Hermann almost wanted the video he saw to be a fluke, but he was, unfortunately, or fortunately, proven wrong with each new video that he uncovered. Newton Geiszler continued to, for lack of a better word, dazzle him. Watching him, Hermann was reminded of why he choose ballroom dancing not so long ago. Hermann had never seen someone portray their passion so visibly. It was as though each dance Geiszler was dancing out a love story, the love story between him and dancing itself.

Hermann felt something warm in his chest as he watched video after video, he knew that if he told Vanessa she would say it was infatuation, but Hermann couldn’t accept that. Yet, with each video, Hermann felt an even stronger pull towards this man. He saw a kindred spirit, someone who saw dancing the same way he did, that Hermann was almost desperate to connect with.

Later Hermann would look back at what he did next as the best decision he had ever made. Even later than that Hermann would look back at it as the biggest mistake of his life. Even later he would be stuck between the two. No matter what, later Hermann would blame the late hour and the glass of wine he had with dinner for what he did next.

He wrote a letter.

 

++++

 

Dear Mr. Newton Geiszler,

I hope it is not injudicious that I write this letter…I admit I was quite astonished by the emotion you’ve captured in your dancing…Where did you study?...

Sincerest regards,

Hermann Gottlieb

 

++++

 

Dear Gottlieb,

…I’ve seen your performances, not in person, unfortunately, but wow… The lift you did just blew my mind. How long…

Newt Geiszler

 

++++

 

Dear Mr. Geiszler

…I saw your last competition. It was remarkable, congratulations… To your prose in our last letter, may I say I verily agree…

Best regards,

Hermann Gottlieb

 

++++

 

Dearest Hermann,

…You took the words right out of my mouth! Or off my page in this case…I feel like…Where are you now?...

Sincerely and respectfully yours,

Newton R Geiszler

 

++++

 

Dear Newton Geiszler,

You are ridiculous… Did you manage the jive?... The Europe scene is rather remarkable, I believe you would find the competition…

Warm regards,

Hermann Gottlieb

 

++++

 

Hey Hermann,

I heard about the competition they must be idiots… Never forget you’re kind of amazing… I can’t wait for this competition to end the playlist is the worst…

Yours,

Newt

 

++++

 

Dear Newton,

…Do not think I do not know. Rest your ankle and let it heal, Newton… Thank you, you are…

Yours respectfully,

Hermann Gottlieb

 

++++

 

Hermann,

Do you ever think… I want to see you… What’s coming up for you?

Yours awesomely,

Newt

 

++++

 

…I am going to have a performance soon in Berlin. It will be delightful to be back in the motherland. Although, you are the Berliner, are you not? Perhaps you have some suggestions for sights to see while I am there...

Me. I can be the sight.

Newt was surprised at the thought and the almost painful ache that came with it, and paused in reading Hermann’s latest letter. This wasn’t the first time Newt had wanted to meet Hermann in person; he’d wanted to meet Hermann in person the moment he first saw him smile on camera, but this was the first time he’d felt so desperate about it. He was tired of this, he realized. Letters and videos. He wanted to see Hermann face to face, have a conversation with him that didn’t take weeks to complete, reach out and be able to touch him, see that bright, crinkling smile he’d only ever seen in that one interview, hear the soft chuckles Newt was sure he made when Newt wrote a particularly funny joke in his letters. It had been over two years since their first letter exchange, and maybe it was kind of pathetic, but his relationship with Hermann was one of the best and longest ones he’d ever had with someone. Hermann was important to him, not just because Newt was ridiculously into him, but because they shared a connection. Hermann just got him, like no one else ever had. So, sue him for desperately wanting to have the person who seemed to know him best next to him.

Newt threw himself back on the couch, covering his face with his hands, and groaned. Why couldn’t he just go to Berlin?

Newt’s eyes snapped open. Wait a second.

He was, as Hermann had said, the Berliner after all. It would be totally normal if he just so happened to be in Berlin visiting his uncle while Hermann was there. And if he just so happened to have tickets to the exact performance Hermann was going to be in, well that was just a stroke of good luck. And then wow, look at that, they were so close, might as well meet while they were both there huh? And maybe Newt would mention he knows a really good restaurant, a restaurant that he would accidentally forget was really romantic with candles and violins and roses. And if Hermann fell desperately in love with him after his suave debonair romancing, well who was he to complain?

Newt was practically vibrating as he pulled open his laptop and googled tickets while he dialed his uncle at the same time.

“Hey, it’s Newt. I’m great! How’s things with that one guy?... Cool cool cool… So, I was thinking of showing up sometime next month… yeah… to see you of course!... Ok, well, there’s a performance I want to see… it’s not super important but it also kind of is… it’s a long story… yeah… sick… cool! See you soon. Love you.”

In less than an hour, he had his ticket, his reservations for the restaurant, and his first draft for the letter he was about to send Hermann.

…Berlin! Heim, süß Heim. I have a good feeling about this performance Hermann. I do have a suggestion for something to see, but it’s a surprise so you’re going to have to wait and see ;)…

The next few weeks were the longest weeks of his entire life. Newt was sure he was going to die before he saw Hermann, or maybe he had actually died, and this was hell because that’s sure what it felt like. Newt threw himself into rehearsal, trying to make the time pass faster, but that only helped for part of the day. He filled the rest of the time with binge-watching his favorite movies and planning out what he was going to say to Hermann when he first saw him. By the time he was on a plane and shoving his bags into his uncle’s spare room he had no less than 10 possible speeches that would all immediately make Hermann fall in love with him. The performance was that night and normally Newt would be annoyed he had anything to do but chill on the couch with his uncle after his flights, but this was an exception. Newt couldn’t even imagine suffering through another day of waiting. He quickly dressed in the new outfit he had gotten for this very night, it was a very nice button up and equally nice tie if he did so say himself, called a cab, and left with a jaunty “don’t wait up” to his uncle.

It was only when he was seated, staring at the curtain with every cell in his body pulsating in excitement, did it hit Newt that he wasn’t just going to meet Hermann in person, he was going to watch him dance in person. No screen would separate them, Newt would be able to see every detail, every breath Hermann would take, every quirk of his lips. Newt checked his phone every few minutes, urging time to go faster, sure he was about to combust. Finally, the lights dimmed, and a hush ran over the audience.

It was awesome. God. It was better than anything Newt’s mind could have come up with, better than any screen. The moment Hermann appeared on stage, lit with white light and sparkling, Newt was sure his heart stopped. Newt was pretty sure there were other dancers but none of that mattered when he could see Hermann, living and breathing and dancing, right in front of him. Newt followed him across the stage, seeing only him, even Vanessa fading into the background. He couldn’t help but let out a curse or too whenever Hermann did something particularly amazing, which led to a lot of angry stares and hushes, but Newt couldn’t care less. Did they not see what Hermann was doing? How his stance never wavered, how he reached with every inch of those ridiculously long limbs of his, how he carried Vanessa across the stage with barely a huff. It was just the most awesome thing Newt had ever seen and they could all stuff it. The performance was over too quick. The curtain was closing, and Newt was screaming at the top of his lungs.

The audience filed out, but Newt’s night wasn’t done, and he set off towards backstage. Newt did realize this would have been easier if he had just told Hermann he was coming, and they could have met somewhere, but Newt had wanted something with a little more flare than that. Besides, contrary to popular belief, getting backstage wasn’t even that hard, especially when you just looked like you knew what you were doing and had a reason for being there. No one even tried to stop him, which was kind of disappointing because he already had a pretty good excuse ready to go. After a few hits and misses, Newt finally found Hermann’s dressing room, took a deep breath, and walked in.

And there he was. Hermann Gottlieb, closer than he’d ever been before. Newt’s eyes drifted over Hermann, trying to drink in every detail, but the moment he reached Hermann’s hands he was caught. They were so pale and long and delicate in person, even though Newt knew the power in them, they were as lithe and elegant as the man himself, curled so precisely around the bottle of water he was gripping. Newt watched as Hermann twisted the cap back on his bottle and he gulped.

Newt couldn’t help but think of those hands on him.

God.

“Hi,” Newt said when he remembered to speak.

Hermann turned to him and gasped, eyes going wide and mouth going slack.

Newt opened his mouth to say something more, something deep, one of the millions of things he’d been desperate to say since he watched that first video, one of the 10 speeches he had planned for this very moment. But his eyes were still trained on those hands. Long, delicate, beautiful hands. What came out was this:

“How can hands as delicate as that actually lift someone up?”

And it all went downhill from there.

 

++++

 

Herman was shaking. Or at least he thought he was, for everything seemed incorporeal, as though reality had twisted in on itself and Hermann was unsure where he was left.

He had just met Newton.

Newton had stood in front of him with wide open eyes and Hermann saw him, and knew him, from the swirling color on his arms to the crooked glasses to the massive energetic heart. But then he had opened his mouth and it was like he was a stranger.

Hermann had responded poorly.

By jove, what had happened? How could that be Newton Geiszler? The same man who had opened his soul to Hermann in frankly beautiful prose and inspired Hermann to open himself as well. Who carried knowledge of Hermann that only he knew and returned it with an offering of his own. Who had written letter after letter, until Hermann felt unappeased, unfulfilled without a fresh page of Newton’s words in front of him to devour. The same man who Hermann had long ago, alarmingly but joyfully admitted to himself he was in love with.

It couldn’t be real.

Hermann was shaking. Was it sorrow or rage, he couldn’t say, but he knew it needed to stop. If that was Newton Geiszler, conceited, insensitive, cruel, then he didn’t deserve this reaction. He deserved nothing more than contempt. No, indifference. Newton Geiszler was nothing to him, not anymore. And perhaps one day Hermann would convince himself he had never been.

“You will never believe who I just saw in the hall,” Vanessa said as she burst into the room.

Hermann wasn’t sure what he looked like, he couldn’t bear to look in the mirror, but Vanessa froze at the door, worry rushing onto her face.

“Hermann, oh my god. Are you ok?”

She rushed to his side, hands gently, nervously, touching his arms. He was still shaking and as he stiffened against her touch it only got worse.

“Oh god, was it Geiszler?”

Hermann took a breath, a shaking and stuttering breath.

“We will not be speaking of Newton Geiszler again,” he said, voice thankfully firm.

And that was the end of it.

The end of all of it.

 

++++

 

“Newt, you’ll never guess what I got!”

Newt shrieked and fell off the couch as Tendo burst into his apartment, slamming the door open and yelling as though it wasn’t 8 in the morning.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Newt grumbled as he pulled himself up.

Tendo threw himself on the couch, blissfully ignoring Newt’s sleepy glare as he always did. Smug bastard.

“My friend, I have gotten us two tickets to the best show on earth. Here in America for one night only, the Kaidanovskys!”

“Shit no way!” Newt yelled.

Tendo pulled two tickets from his jacket and grinned. Newt reached for them, but Tendo yanked them back.

“No way, not after you lost the bow tie I lent you for your last jive routine. These are going to stay safe in my hands.”

“Come on man, I’m sure I’ll find your dumb bow tie at some point. It’s not like you don’t have plenty.”

“Alison gave me that bow tie!”

“Alison gave you most of your bow ties, dude.”

“I’m taking the ticket back.”

“No! Please, I’ll find the bow tie. Anything, the Kaidanovskys are amazing. I’ll cry the whole performance, I bet,” Newt said.

Tendo laughed.

“There will be others there. Like I think Stacker Pentecost. I bet it will be the best performance we’ve ever seen.”

Newt grinned, but it turned a little forced when he realized it won’t. He’d already seen the best performance there could be, and it was danced by a stuck-up dick. A stuck-up dick he definitely didn’t miss writing ridiculous paper letters to. Who even wrote paper letters these days when there were email and texting? Dicks that’s who. And Newt was glad he no longer had to deal with that. No, he wasn’t glad, he was indifferent. Hermann was nothing but some guy who danced well and he had absolutely no effect on Newt what so ever.

“Yeah,” Newt lied. “The best performance ever.”

When Newt finally remembered to ask about the details, it turned out the performance was that night. When asked how Tendo had managed to get tickets for that night, he had just wiggled his eyebrows and said he had “connections”. By the time he remembered to ask though, the show was in almost an hour and they had to scramble ready and leave running out the door. The did make it on time, thanks to Tendo’s frankly terrifying driving and google maps, in fact, they made it with plenty of time to spare. They strolled in calmly, grabbed a program, and found their seats. Newt flipped through the program gleefully reading the Kaidanovskys’ biography when he turned the page and his heart stopped.

“Oh god,” Newt said.

Tendo looked up from his own program.

“What?”

“I have to go,” Newt said reaching for his jacket.

“What? Newt sit down. What is it?” Tendo grabbed him and forced him back into his seat.

“Hermann Gottlieb is performing,”

“What no way! That’s great. I’ve always wanted to see him.”

“Ummm not great. I really need to leave.”

“Newt, what the hell?”

“Look he and I… we kind of have a past. And it really didn’t end well the last time we saw each other so I really should get out of here.”

Newt struggled again but Tendo still had him in a steal hold.

“Ok first, I can’t believe you never told me about this sordid affair you had with the European king of ballroom.”

“It wasn’t an affair-.”

“Second, he’s not going to be able to see you, so you might as well just enjoy the performance and not let him ruin it for you.”

Newt settled at that.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I’m not gonna let that dick ruin me seeing the Kaidanovskys. You’re right, I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s what Newt said but if he was honest, he knew he was staying for the chance to see Hermann dance one more time. Even after what happened, Newt couldn’t deny the fact Hermann’s dancing left him in awe, it was still the most amazing thing Newt had ever seen. If asked he would deny it, but there was excitement, that bordered on yearning, burning through his veins and it didn’t have to do with the Russians.

The lights lowered and Tendo and Newt exchanged grins. But instead of the curtain going up, a man spoke over the loudspeakers.

“We announce a cast change due to unforeseen circumstances. The rumba this evening will be performed by Matt Kosinski and Amerila Haddok. Thank you, we appreciate your understanding.”

The audience began to murmur but silenced when the curtain went up.

“The rumba was Hermann Gottlieb’s dance wasn’t it?” Tendo whispered.

“Yeah,” Newt murmured back.

The performance was awesome, and Newt tried his best not to think about how much more awesome it would have been if Hermann was there. He also tried not to think about all the reasons Hermann wasn’t at the performance, he had never heard of Hermann canceling before. He failed on both accounts because he was never good at not thinking about things.

He and Tendo spent the drive back to his place raving about the performance, trying to remember their favorite parts, talking about jumps and moves they wanted to steal. It was fun, and Newt forgot there was anything he was supposed to not be thinking about.

A week later Newt got a call from Tendo.

“Hey man, have you heard?”

“I’ve heard a lot of things, my dude,” Newt said.

“Shit.”

Newt frowned at the almost sorrowful way Tendo cursed.

“Is everything ok? Do you need me to do something? Are you ok?”

“No, Newt. You didn’t really tell me anything, so I don’t know how big this is. I don’t know if you’d even care but I think you would. But Newt, you might want to check the news on Hermann Gottlieb.”

Newt froze.

“What?”

“He was in an accident, Newt. That’s why he wasn’t at the performance last week. There’s not a lot of information out there, but they say he’s not going to be able to dance again.”

Newt laughed.

“What, man. Just because I didn’t tell you about our past doesn’t mean you have to make up weird shit like that. That’s messed up Choi.”

“Newt,” Tendo sighed. “Look it up. Let me know if you need anything.”

He hung up. Newt pushed the cold fear that was crawling up his throat down. That couldn’t be true. Not Hermann. Tendo was just being the biggest dick in the universe. Newt stared at his computer. He could just check and prove Tendo was a lying asshole and be done. Because it couldn’t be true. He didn’t reach for his computer.

It couldn’t be true.

Not Hermann.

 

++++

 

The first thing Hermann did when he woke up was reach for his cane. This was significant for there was a time before he developed this instinct and he would be halfway through his morning routine before he realized his knee was screaming and he remembered his cane. The fact reaching for his cane was as natural as waking up, to him, was a sign he had come to terms with this part of his life.

He was surprised, but pleased, by this acceptance.

It was too easy to remember the time before acceptance. Where it had felt like everything was crumbling, his career shattered as his leg, his life over.

But Hermann was a man of logic, with the support of some rather remarkable people, and it did not take long for him to make his way out of the cloud of sorrow and fear that came with his injury. He mourned the loss of his ability and was surprised to find many people mourned with him, his friends and family and even his fans. Yet, the time of mourning could not last forever and Hermann had to make a choice. His first instinct was to return to his other love, maths. It would not take much to find his place back in academia, he was still in contact with several professors and kept up with the latest research. But something about it didn’t feel right. There was a part of him, a part he was sure was running off sheer spite, that didn’t want this injury to defeat him, to run him out of the ballroom dancing scene. He couldn’t dance, his injury ensured that, but he refused to believe that was the end.

It was Karla who came up with the idea. Or more correctly, it was Dr. Karla Gottlieb Ph.D. in Business and Macroeconomics who came with a full business model, building options, and a 10-year plan. It was everything Hermann had been looking for and he was furious he hadn’t thought of it first. It was a dance studio. Hermann couldn’t dance but he could still craft dances, he could pass on his knowledge and passion, he could create a generation of ballroom dancers who treated dancing with the respect and attention it deserved. With his respect in the field, there was no doubt he could be as particular about who he chose as a student as he wanted, and with Karla, who had decided to take care of the business portion whether Hermann wanted her to or not, there was no way for this to fail.

And it didn’t. Gottlieb’s School of Dance flourished.

Hermann wouldn’t lie and say he never missed dancing, but he found teaching agreed with him.

Hermann ran through his morning routine with little fuss. He had decided it would be a half day today and scheduled accordingly, he only had one lesson today. He had moved to an apartment just down the block and enjoyed the short stroll he had to take to work each morning. Today it was bright and sunny and Hermann let the sun soak into his skin, warming him from the outside in. The building he had decided on was quaint, he didn’t want an empire or conglomerate, with clean lines and good, sturdy wooden floors.

Sometimes, he walked into the building and it seemed too quiet and he wasn’t sure why. Sometimes it seemed too clean, lacking outlandish props and costumes. Sometimes it seemed too empty, as though someone was missing even when it was full of students. And then he knew why, but he also knew there was nothing he could do about that.

He unlocked the building and wiped his feet on the rug. When he went into the back-room office space he was surprised to find Karla at the desk going over some papers.

“Karla, what are you doing here?”

Karla looked up and frowned.

“Just going over some bills.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Vanessa has been gone less than a week,” Hermann tsked.

Karla sighed and laid her head on the desk.

That had been another thing that had come from this studio. Karla and Vanessa. Hermann didn’t disapprove in any way, which both Vanessa and Karla for some reason thought he would, but he wouldn’t deny it took him a moment to process. He was happy for them. They worked well together, and they seemed to make each other happier, which was all he could want for either of them.

“Hermann, am I pathetic?”

“Yes.”

“Bruder!” Karla scowled at him and he rolled his eyes.

There was silence for a moment.

“I think I’m going to ask her to marry me,” Karla whispered.

Hermann startled, looking up from where he was hanging up his coat. Karla was staring at him, nervous and elated all at once, and Hermann realized he was the first person she had told.

“Well,” she said when he failed to say anything.

“Karla, you are my sister and Vanessa has been my companion for almost a decade. All I could ever ask was for you two to be happy, and if you are to find that happiness within each other it is not I who can nor will deny you both that.”

Karla smiled.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

Hermann gave it a thought.

“I’m going to teach you a dance. You are going to dance with her and the moment the dance ends you will propose, and she will undoubtedly say yes,” Hermann told her.

“Where did that come from?” Karla asked.

“I remember her telling me years ago it was her dream proposal.”

“No way,” Karla gasped. “You’re not messing with me, are you?”

“Come now, I’m not Bastien. She was drunk and had just finished watching a particularly moving waltz and she told me a lot of things that night,” Hermann rolled his eyes.

Karla jumped from her seat and threw her arms around him. They were a loving family, but not a physical one. The hug was best described as awkward, but it was heartfelt as Hermann took care gently patting her back.

“Hermann,” Karla said into his shoulder.

“Yes, Karla?”

“Are you happy?”

“Tremendously, Karla.”

“I want you to have everything you ever wanted.”

Hermann took a sharp breath through his nose.

“I do,” he lied.

The bell at the front door chimed to announce someone had entered.

Hermann pulled himself out of the hug, giving Karla one last awkward pat, and walked towards the front room.

“Mako, wonderful to see you. How is your father doing?”

He did not have everything he ever wanted, but it was enough. It had to be enough.

 

++++

 

Newt had long ago stopped debating on whether or not he should keep doing this. Because the answer was 100% that he shouldn’t. He knew it was probably unhealthy for him to google Hermann’s name once a week and rewatch his performances. He was well aware he shouldn’t be doing these things, especially not years after Hermann had verbally punched him in the throat and spat on him as he walked away. Especially because he’s pretty sure he hates Hermann. But he’s also pretty sure a part of him, deep down, still loves Hermann and he couldn’t stop. Not when he danced so passionately, Newt was sure he was seeing Hermann’s entire soul and it was so damn beautiful. Not when they had shared thoughts and memories so personal, letter after letter. So yeah, he hated Hermann, he hated his pretentious, arrogant, smug face and his impossibly perfect dancing. But he loved him too. And there was nothing that could stop him from googling Gottlieb late at night against all reasonable logic.

Newt had all the lights off and he was curled up on his bed, laptop in lap. It almost felt like he was a teen again trying to look up porn and worried his dad would walk in at any moment, only now he was just trying to internet stalk a douchebag who danced really good.

He typed in Gottlieb, not Hermann Gottlieb because the fewer words made him feel less like a stalker. Like he could be looking up any Gottlieb and he just so happened to stumble upon Hermann’s most recent YouTube videos.

The first link was for a news article, which was different.

Ballroom Royal Wedding: Vanessa Barres finally becomes a Gottlieb

Newt didn’t really understand so he read it again. And again.

Vanessa… Gottlieb.

Newt felt something deep inside him crack.

He closed the laptop and pushed it away.

In the dark he stared at the ceiling, emotions crawling up his throat, choking him.

God damn. Pining after a man who hated him years after they had stopped speaking, that was pathetic. Newt would admit it. But he had been sure, absolutely sure, Hermann must have loved him back at some point. He could see it in the letters. Respectfully yours, shit, that was practically a marriage proposal. Newt realized there was still a part of him that thought one day, somehow Hermann would come back to him. That disastrous first meeting would be pushed to the side and they would find each other at long last and they would be together, as they should have always been. That part of him, that hope, though was gone now. He could feel it shiver a die and leave a gaping hole in his chest.

Hermann was married. If he had ever loved Newt he didn’t anymore, it was written there in black and white. Newt could handle being pathetic, but this was too much.

He didn’t google Gottlieb again.

 

++++

 

“Thank you for taking over for the day Vanessa. Yes, yes, I will tell him. Remember-. Ugh.”

Hermann glared at his phone as Vanessa hung up on him. He huffed before entering the restaurant he had been standing in front of. Hermann scanned the floor before he saw the man who had asked him here.

“Ah, Mr. Pentecost,” Hermann said as he approached the table. “It is good to see you again.”

Stacker raised to meet him, and they shared a firm handshake before retaking their seats.

“Mr. Gottlieb, Mako tells me the studio is running successfully as ever.”

Hermann didn’t know exactly why Stacker had asked him to lunch, he had only mentioned a business proposition. The studio had indeed been running successfully for the last several years, Hermann had no complaint and Karla would be horribly offended if anyone even implied her business model left something to be desired. Hermann didn’t know what Stacker had to offer, but he had Hermann’s respect not only as a dancer and choreographer but as the father of one of his most prized students. He was sure there was no harm in accepting this lunch.

Their small talk was limited as they both quickly scanned the menu and ordered. After the waitress disappeared with their menus, Stacker folded his hands and turned serious. There was rarely a moment Stacker didn’t look serious but even Hermann could see the subtle change that meant they were getting down to business, which suited Hermann just fine.

“I don’t wish to waste your time Mr. Gottlieb. I’m sure you’re wondering what my proposal is,” Stacker said.

“I am indeed. After all, as you said yourself, the studio is nothing but successful,” Hermann said.

“What I’m proposing isn’t about the studio at all. I’m leading a project that would bring ballroom dancing to the forefront of entertainment and reach an audience that may have never been exposed before.”

Hermann nodded, he was always in favor of people giving ballroom dancing the respect it deserved.

“It’s a TV show.”

Hermann blinked. Out of everything Hermann had thought this could be about, a TV show had not even entered his mind.

“A TV show?” Hermann asked.

“Yes. It may seem odd but give me time to explain. It would be a reality competition show where professional dancers would be paired with a celebrity contestant. Each week they would be taught a dance and they would perform it and the judges would each score the dance. The pair with the lowest combined score would be eliminated. We are playing with the idea of having a troupe of professionals who aren’t paired as well to break up some of the performances. We hope the draw of the celebrities will bring in crowds not normally interested in dancing and from the feelers we have put out there are plenty of celebrities that are interested in learning how to dance.”

Hermann nodded along as Stacker spoke. He could see what they were trying to do and if it was successful Hermann could see it going far. If it was successful.

“And what role do you wish me to play in this TV show?” Hermann asked.

“We would like you to be one of the 3 judges,” Stacker said.

A judge. Hermann couldn’t deny the idea appealed to him. He took a sip from his water to bide some time as he mulled it over.

“You mentioned other judges?”

“Yes, we already have confirmed one, Herc Hansen. He’s from the Australia scene, have you met him?”

“I haven’t but I have heard of him. And the other?”

“We have several names, but we are currently hoping to get N-.”

“Hi there, I’ve got your food right here.” The waitress laid their meals in front of them.

Hermann was glad for the pause. It was all a bit much at once. A TV show. Hermann didn’t care much for TV, he only owned one to watch the news and jeopardy if he didn’t have a book he was in the middle of. He did have to admit, he could see himself watching such a show that Stacker was proposing. As long as they kept it tasteful of course.

“Is this in anyway scripted?” Hermann asked when he thought of it. He was no actor, nor would he bend to the will of some producer telling him to score a performance in any way he didn’t agree with.

“Nothing but introductions. We plan to have little interaction between the contestants themselves, so we hope to have as little drama as possible. We want this to showcase dancing as both a sport and an art form, not turn this into a soap opera.”

Hermann hummed in approval.

The rest of the lunch composed of Stacker giving as many details as they had confirmed. There was still much to plan and finalize and it highlighted the fact that this was a risk. There was no guarantee that this would succeed. Even though, Hermann couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted.

Their lunch ended pleasantly, Stacker asking about Vanessa and Hermann asking about his children. Stacker graciously paid the bill and finally, he turned to Hermann expectantly.

Hermann sighed.

“I do enjoy the idea of this show,” he said. “However, I’m sure you can understand I can’t give you my answer at this very moment.”

“Of course,” Stacker said. “Think it over. I will send you more information as we confirm it. Please consider our proposition, we think you’d be a perfect fit for what we are trying to accomplish.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pentecost. I will get back to you soon with my answer.”

They shook hands and parted ways. Instead of calling a cab, Hermann took a slow stroll through a nearby park, letting his mind freely think over the idea.

His first instinct was to say no. Hermann was content with his studio, he was content with his life. He had never had a stronger relationship with his siblings, he was making an impact on a variety of new dancers, and he was still surrounded by what he loved to do. To leave that behind for some, crazy, whimsical reality show in America, well it seemed like there wasn’t much of a competition.

Still, there was a small voice in his head that kept telling him to do it. To take the chance. Live a little. Hermann refused to acknowledge that he thought the voice sounded like Newton, even after all these years.

Hermann took a deep breath. It seemed he had another decision to make.

 

++++

 

When Newt got the call, it took him exactly 30 seconds to make his decision. He heard the words TV and judging, and he was agreeing before Stacker even finished his spiel. Newt’s first thought was: I’m a TV star! His second thought was: I’m going to be Paula Abdul.

Newt had immediately called everyone he knew to brag about how he was about to become a TV star. He made sure to keep the details vague as he could because he was pretty sure he wasn’t even supposed to be talking about it. Or he could, it wasn’t like this was Star Wars it was just a frankly kick-ass ballroom dancing reality TV show that he was born to judge. When Newt called Tendo, he was surprised to find he wasn’t talking to his friend, but a coworker.

“You’re kidding me! We get to be on a show together?” Newt yelled into the phone.

“Yeah. They wanted me to be the host, but now that I’ve heard you’re going to be a judge I might say I changed my mind. I thought this was going to be a classy show,” Tendo said.

“Fuck you man,” Newt said and hung up.

A few days later, Stacker sent him a ticket to Las Vegas, to go over things in person and sign some contracts. Newt loved Las Vegas. It was loud and sparkly and the more obnoxious you were the more they loved you there. It all felt a little whirlwind, like any Hollywood story, packing his bags, getting on the plane, the hotel, the strip, the whole idea of being on TV. The more Newt thought about it, the more excited he got. This was going to be awesome.

He caught a cab to the address Stacker had sent, admiring the scenery as he went. They reached a giant building that had Newt twitching with excitement, he’d been afraid they were going to end up in some sad broken-down place and Newt’s big dreams would be crushed, but so far, so good. He paid the cab quickly and all but ran into the building. He gave his name to the secretary and tried his best not to just barge through a random door to explore in his excitement. He tried to sit, but it was too much, so he started pacing, but that made him look a little crazy, so he sat again. He was just about to start pacing again when someone called his name. Newt was expecting Stacker, but instead, there was a tall white man with a square jaw and intense eyes. He smiled but it did little to soften his face.

“Newt Geiszler, I’m Herc Hansen,” the man introduced himself reaching out for a handshake.

“Hey man, nice to meet you.” Newt shook his hand, trying to remember if he’d heard of this guy. He was Australian but nothing ringed a bell.

“Stacker is busy elsewhere, so I offered to walk you through the paperwork and then give you a tour of the building.”

“Alright, sweet. Let’s do this.”

They started with the paperwork, unfortunately. There were all sorts of shit to fill out, the normal new job things as well as a bunch of crazy TV show agreements. Maybe Newt should have an agent, because though he read through everything they probably still could have asked for his soul and he would have been none the wiser. They even had to have a contract about social media, Newt mostly used Twitter to retweet memes and complain about TV shows he liked, so he was pretty sure he was fine in that area.

By the time they were done with the paperwork, Newt was sure he was half dead. But the mention of the tour managed to bring him back to life. They started a slow and steady walk through the building.

“This building is where the performances will be filmed. However, there’s another building with a number of practice rooms for the couples to use,” Herc spoke as they walked.

“So, all the filming will be done here?”

“Well, we’ve decided that before each performance there will be a little video diary that details what happened during practice that week. So there will be cameras that follow the couples during their practices. But other than that, each episode will be filmed live, so it’s one chance to get it right, just like a normal competition.”

Newt grinned. He was a judge. Man, it was going to feel good to be on the other side of the table. Speaking of tables.

“Here, I’ll show you where the performances will happen first.”

“Hey, you said there were 3 judges right,” Newt said.

“Yeah, there are. I’m one of the other judges actually,” Herc said.

“Cool.”

Herc seemed ok. A little rough around the edges, maybe a little harsh. Hey, maybe he was the Simon Cowell of the show.

“So, who’s the other judge?”

Just as he asked that they entered the main ballroom area. For a new show, it was pretty amazing. It was big and open, a large beautiful dance floor surrounded by audience seating on three sides and a sick looking stage attached by stairs. From here Newt could see the table where they would be sitting for judging. He could also see another two people standing in the middle of the dance floor. He squinted.

Oh God.

One of the figures slowly turned around and Newt thought his heart stopped.

No way. Newt wondered if he was seeing things.

But, there he was, in all his tight-lipped and impeccable postured glory.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” Herc said. “Will be our third judge.”

Well, Newt thought as he watched Hermann’s face turn a ridiculous cross between outraged and horrified, shit.

 

++++

 

The first season was a disaster.

A professional dancer left in the middle of filming. One of the contestants broke their wrist in a completely unrelated incident and tried to argue they could still compete. He and Newton squabbled and fought about everything, including but not limited to the necessity of props, a proper Charleston, and an odd conversation about Karla and Vanessa’s marriage that Hermann still didn’t understand.

Somehow, though, it was a hit. They were renewed for another season.

So, the producers sat Herc between him and Newton and the rest was history.

**Author's Note:**

> Join us next time for Dancing with the Stars season 10 featuring: Property Brother Raleigh Becket and his partner Mako Mori, CEO of Shao industries Liwen Shao and her partner Nate Lambert, MMA champion Viktoria Sakhno and her partner Chuck Hansen, Basketball superstar Cheung Wei Tang with his partner Jules Reyes, Oscar winner Hannibal Chau and his partner Sasha Kaidanovsky, Olympic gold medalist Amara Namani and her partner Jake Pentecost, and many more.


End file.
